


Second

by SLWalker



Series: Arch to the Sky [25]
Category: due South
Genre: Arch to the Sky, First Time, M/M, Nipawin (1991-1995)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1993: Mark gets lucky.  At least, that's what he thinks, until it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second

The same tube of lubrication and the same box of condoms had been sitting in his nightstand drawer for over a month.

At this rate, Mark was sure he was going to hit the expiration date on the box of condoms before he got to use them.

The kissing was good, what he could get of it. The hand-holding was... okay, it was a little teenage-boy, but it was sweet. But Renfield worked midnights, Mark worked days, and between their schedules, curling and friends, it was possible that five year expiration date would come and go before Mark got any.

It was times like this that he missed Toronto.

"You should stay awhile," he said, as Renfield stood there tugging on his thumb, in the door.

Renfield smiled back, sheepish and regretful. "I would, if not for mandatory overtime."

Mark nodded. He'd heard that enough times that he already knew it was absolutely useless to try to convince Renfield to call in sick. The first time he had asked that, right as they were kissing against the door, right as he was starting to think he would actually _get laid_ , Renfield had looked at him like he had just declared that he was a bank robber and had knocked off the credit union downtown.

Mark thought wistfully about that box. About the scene in Toronto, where he could pick up a guy, instead of having to play romance and schedule-haggle with a Mountie. About how good it would be to fuck. How good it would be to get fucked. Sure, it was nice that he actually managed to find another gay in Nipawin, where it seemed Bible-thumpers were the majority of the population, but this was starting to feel like what he thought marriage might feel like -- lots of loving talk, not nearly enough action.

"See you tomorrow afternoon?" he asked, reaching out to brush his hand against Renfield's.

Renfield actually caught his hand, brought it up and _kissed_ it. "I would... would very much like that."

Mark waited into he was gone before leaning forward to thump his forehead against the door.

 

The thing about Renfield was that he was... Renfield. Mark wasn't sure what it was. He was odd. He was awkward like he'd spent his whole life growing up on some remote farm, but he was from Toronto, where there was a good scene for gays. He was backhandedly, cutely snippy when something offended him, but then he was downright fuckable when he turned on the Mountie persona and stared ice at someone. He was a little bit of a clutz on the sheet during practice, but then came competition, and he was pure grace in motion.

He wasn't classically handsome, though he wasn't anything like a dog, either; lots of teeth and a button nose, too baby-faced in a lot of ways to be a model. But he was attractive, nonetheless; when he moved, even when he was being klutzy, his body was something any healthy guy leaning that way would lust after. Mark had gotten as up-close and personal with that body as he could get away with in the limited time, and jerked off thinking about it on a daily basis.

God, he _really_ missed Toronto.

Toronto had been dating, Toronto had been socializing, Toronto had been hot nights and the intimacy of a crowd. Mark didn't just sleep with anyone, but he had friends. He wasn't going to settle down, wasn't going for anything permanent, but he had men he liked enough to see regularly. He wouldn't have to feel like his only chance for intimacy was by working around the RCMP's fickle schedule.

It must have been hard on Renfield, too, though. If Mark felt lonely in Nipawin, he couldn't imagine what it must have been like to be twenty-one and a _cop_ , when it was even harder to find some kind of quality companionship. _Especially_ in Nipawin. Frustrating as the scheduling problem was, Mark still owed Guy for pointing him in this direction. Not that he hadn't eyed Renfield up before that, but being told he should go for it?

If nothing else, it could hold them over until Mark got a better job offer and got out of Saskatchewan.

Well, he would owe Guy, if Guy didn't spend a regular amount of time trying to get him _arrested_. Dating Renfield didn't mean that Mark would get out of a court date, if he got too bold hitting the joints that Guy kept passing off to him.

He handed it back without hitting it. "Ready for this evening?"

"Yes," Guy answered, taking a long drag and holding it in, before letting it curl out of his nose and into the crisp air.

The late afternoon sun was shining, the ground was frozen, and Mark would even say it was nice out, if not for the fact that it wasn't Toronto, and if not for the fact that it was stupidly cold out. The night was more promising -- they were _competing_ and that meant crowds, that meant cheering, and what was more, they were getting good enough to catch some attention. As long as they could keep Longfellow under control, it was positive attention.

Plus, Renfield was off tonight. Mark thought he might skip the beer after the bonspiel and see about pulling a shift on midnight-turn with a Mountie.

Renfield was still looking a little groggy when he pulled up to the restaurant's parking lot. He had worked twelve hours yesterday, and normally he was waking up around the same time most regular people were going home from work for the day.

Mark immediately dropped the joint Guy had passed back and dodged the shove Guy tried to give him, grinding it under his boot.

"Pussy," Guy said, quietly.

"Hello," Mark said, ignoring it, as Renfield got out of his car and closed the door, smiling. Yeah, he had a lot of teeth. Somehow, though, he still managed to have a drop-dead gorgeous smile.

"Mark. Guy." Renfield sniffed the air, a barely noticeable gesture, and leveled an icy look on Guy. Guy shrugged and didn't bother responding.

"Ready for some dinner?" Mark asked, nodding for the restaurant and trying to push Guy away. Why Guy was even here was a mystery; he'd been tailing Mark around an annoying amount lately.

"Ah... yes, I am." The ice melted and Renfield was smiling again, looking back at Mark. "Guy...?"

Guy shook his head, waving in the air as he turned and walked away. "See you tonight."

"Hm." Renfield raised an eyebrow, then shook it off and Mark could almost see him go to reach out so they could hold hands, before he stopped himself and awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Shall we?"

"Let's go."

 

 

Nipawin didn't exactly have a whole lot of fine dining, but Mark had picked the best out of the family restaurants; it was that or fast food, in this place, so he picked the best of a pretty average selection. He had plans. An early dinner, an evening of curling, a night of (hopefully) getting laid.

Renfield was picky about food, which was something Mark could appreciate. Though Renfield tended to take it a little further than Mark ever would; after this date was set over a week ago, Mark was pretty sure Renfield had actually _researched_ this restaurant, and he still had a moment's pause while looking over the menu. It apparently passed muster, though, and they'd even managed to score a quiet table.

Renfield was in the middle of sipping his water when Mark grinned, leaned over the table and said, "Will you come home with me tonight after the bonspiel?"

Renfield choked, sputtered and immediately snatched up his napkin, dissolving into body-wracking coughs that he was doing his best to muffle into nothingness.

It shouldn't have been as funny as it was. Mark managed to chew down the laugh, though, leaning back in his seat and very aware that half of the restaurant was watching them. He would wait until they went back to their own business, and Renfield stopped choking, to see about smoothing that over.

It took a few minutes, and Renfield was red from the coughing. "I... I had not, ah, anticipated... but-- but, yes. I would like that."

"Me too," Mark said, and he meant it. He smiled at the waitress when she brought their starters, then spoke between bites of salad, "I think we have a fair chance of winning tonight."

"Indeed?" Renfield's eyebrows went up. Mark took that as a victory; he wasn't talking about curling. "I sincerely hope so."

"A great chance," Mark elaborated, smiling wider and feeling a jolt of anticipation when it was returned.

 

 

"Nice back end," the man commented to Guy, in passing. Guy smiled back, wide and toothy.

Mark had to cover his mouth with his hand to smirk. Though, he had to admit that it was true on several levels; he and Renfield did make for a good skip and vice, respectively, and there was also the fact that Renfield did, indeed, have a very nice back end.

The bonspiel was a small one, and they'd stayed in the running. Mark would have loved to have gotten into more serious tournaments, but Renfield's schedule, again, proved to be their bane. Still, it beat sitting at home and watching a match on television, so Mark was willing to take it.

Now they were waiting for their turn on the sheet again, and Guy was sucking down booze, Longfellow was in a rare good mood, and Renfield was trying to pretend that he wasn't blushing and looking at Mark while they waited.

"Are we going out after this?" Longfellow asked, gripping his broom's handle two-handed and leaning forward to watch the next teams as the first stones were delivered.

"Not me, I'm going home," Mark replied, flitting a sidelong glance to Renfield.

Renfield cleared his throat, wringing his own broom's handle as he did so. "Nor I. I'm not... not particularly in the mood for barroom shenanigans."

Guy was smirking again. Mark kicked him in the ankle under the table.

"Fuck you both," Longfellow said, one of his favorite old refrains, though it was good-natured for his winning-streak mood.

Guy went to say something that Mark knew was going to be some variation on 'You wish' and then closed his mouth, crossing his arms.

 _ **I** wish,_ Mark thought, and reveled in that same jolt of anticipation he'd gotten earlier.

 

 

They didn't win, but they came in second. It wasn't enough for Longfellow, who immediately went outside and held his broom up to the sky, screaming obscenities at the gods of curling. Guy took it about like he took everything -- he didn't care. Renfield was entirely pleased with even placing. And Mark figured that he might have come in second there, but he was going to get lucky tonight to even up the karmic scores.

His dick was rock hard when Renfield looked left, looked right, then kissed Mark right through the door of his apartment, heated, fingers curled into his jacket. _Finally!_ Mark thought, as he let go of that lean, athletic body long enough to shove the door closed behind them.

God, it had been too long. Six months for Mark. He had no idea how long for Renfield, but he figured it had to be at least a year or more.

He broke off the kiss and felt Renfield's fingers flexing into the fabric of his jacket. "What would have I gotten if we'd taken first?"

"...first?" Renfield asked, breath quick, staring at Mark's mouth in a way that made Mark glow.

"Never mind," Mark answered, shaking it off, grabbing Renfield's jacket and pushing it back off of his shoulders, outright revelling in the feel of muscle and bone even as he was in a hurry to get to _skin_. Fuck, but the man had a body to die for. Mark didn't know if he wanted to fuck or be fucked worse, then felt another shot of glee at the idea he could probably get both.

Renfield was a little slower, more careful, as he took Mark's jacket off; for a split second, Mark was sure he was going to let go to _hang it up_.

"Don't worry about it," he said, taking the jacket, throwing it towards the closet, and dragging Renfield back into a kiss when he went to protest.

The guy's mouth was hot prospect too, something that called to him for another night or maybe something on the way to _somebody's_ knees around his ears. Or somebody holding on to the headboard. Or bent over. So many possibilities, and mapping that mouth quick and wanting, Mark was _not_ picky.

At least Renfield finally got the right idea, running his hands up Mark's back and kissing back just as hungrily. It was quick work after that; shirts tossed or dropped, jeans kicked off, and Mark managed to trip them both onto his queen-sized, sliding a hand down Renfield's side and going for boxers.

"Mark--"

It was gasped out, and Mark had no idea what the fuck Renfield could possibly want to talk about, so he just asked, "Yeah?" breathlessly as he got to the business of dragging shorts off of a squirming Mountie. No easy feat, but it brought home just how fucking hot those hips were.

God, he was uncut, too. Jackpot.

"I--" Renfield flailed a hand out, and Mark kicked his own briefs off the end of the bed, taking that as an invitation and putting himself back in range so that he could be latched back onto, grabbing Renfield's hip and grinding against him.

Whatever was going to be said was lost to a low, drawn, desperate moan and a flex against him that made Mark shudder, and they weren't going to waste any time, which was perfectly fine by him. He'd been waiting way too long already, and they could always do this again. Maybe even tonight. He kept up that rhythm even as he cast past Renfield for his nightstand drawer, fumbling around for it, shoving Renfield onto his back and slotting between his legs just so he could reach.

"Fuck, you're hot," Mark muttered, as Renfield arched up into him, and Mark almost broke his hand on the drawer he was getting into when he felt red-hot lines drawn down his back and...

Renfield came, with a strangled noise, head thrown back, digging his nails into Mark's back where the red-hot lines ended.

Mark rocked him through it, even as his brain was trying to catch up to that. He didn't think they were that far into the festivities, and after a moment, feeling Renfield uncoil under him, he blinked a few times, his own dick still aching.

"Been a long time, eh?" he finally asked, when those nails left his back and he felt Renfield petting over the scratches he'd left.

Renfield was still breathing hard and opened his eyes, looking back at Mark and turning a little red. "Ah..." A few more breaths. "...actually, I... that is, I've never... never... this is the... yes. I mean, no. You're the first."

Oh.

Shit.

 _Oh, shit._

Something must have shown on Mark's face, because Renfield's eyes went wide and he got even redder. He went to say something, and Mark nodded just so that he _wouldn't_ say anything else, and oh, fuck, how can a guy grow up gay in Toronto and be a fucking _virgin_ at twenty-one years old? Mark had just thought that maybe that quirky awkwardness was because he was quirky and awkward, not because he was...

His heart sank somewhere into his gut, and he reached a shaky hand up to pet Renfield's hair. God, how bad would it suck to have lost your virginity like _that_? All of Mark's anticipation and heat was gone in a flash, replaced by sheer fucking 'I'm screwed' _panic_.

Renfield returned the gesture, squirming faintly and clearly stifling a hypersensitive wince, petting at Mark's hair in a way that made him feel even worse, eyebrows drawn a little, blue eyes wide, looking entirely too fucking young.

And then he said it, like it was the most simple thing in the universe.

"I love you."

Mark hoped he sounded even halfway convincing when he answered, "I love you, too."

 _Oh. Shit._

 

 

The same tube of lubrication and the same box of condoms had been sitting in his nightstand drawer for over a month.

Mark stared at the box for a long moment, sitting on his still unmade bed. Tried not to think about the way Renfield had wrapped around him, warm and gorgeous and entirely too invested. Tried not to think about the way he tried to hold on back and make it seem like he was good. Tried not to notice that Renfield looked vaguely hurt when Mark couldn't seem to get interested enough to have the favor returned. Tried to feel around for even a hint of the 'love' he'd offered the man last night, because really, how bad would it be to lose your virginity to someone you loved who didn't love you back?

Mark didn't find it.

Fuck.

He threw the box in the trash can, put his palms against his eyes, fell back onto his bed and groaned.

He was so screwed.


End file.
